My Own Worst Enemy
by hoppnhorn
Summary: When a partnership arises from an unexpected place, Billy tests boundaries with an old acquaintance. With dormant feelings stirring and new threats mounting, the last thing he needs to fight is himself. Rated M to cover the bases: Swearing, Violence, Sex.
1. Chapter 1

The bar wasn't open. He usually did this, showing up before anyone was there. It was fun to pretend he owned the place and it was the only thing he had to worry about each day. Getting in early to wipe down tables, make sure glasses were clean, and sign for the deliveries. But it wasn't his. Bones' didn't even run the place anymore. He owned the place, sure, but it was simply an easy front to launder the source of his money.

Billy loved the Four Roses. It smelled like cedar, pine, or some sort of wood. The floors, bar, and trim were all original, back when carpenters worked for days on a single piece of a room. Back when this neighborhood had more skilled workers than warehouse and factory hands.

He sat at the heavy bar and felt along a crack in the wood. This place had been a rock for him since he was old enough to remember. If there was anything in his hometown he'd miss, it would be the Four Roses.

The front door groaned as it opened, announcing the arrival of another body. Billy didn't bother to look up, knowing only Sam would show up this early in the morning.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were meeting someone, or just… alone."

He whipped his head up in surprise, his hand automatically resting in the small of his back. His gun was cold on his spine, heavy on his belt. It would take him only a moment to lift it and aim.

But Helen Gates stood very still in the doorway, aware that her presence was an invasion. She lifted her hands slowly, a grin on her lips, to surrender.

"Don't shoot." Then she dropped her hands and shrugged, taking a cautionary step towards the bar. "Or do. Start the day on an interesting note."

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his hand still resting on the butt of his gun. Billy knew Helen, but she was just as dangerous as she was smart.

"To talk?" She kept moving closer and he watched her like a hawk. Helen was about five foot eight, lean but strong, and pale as snow. He noticed that her left hand was bandaged around the knuckles, like an old boxer after a hard night. But Helen had a thing for knives, so the wound stood out on her otherwise unmarked exterior. She wore nothing fancy, just a pair of black jeans and a grey jacket. Unremarkable, but with purpose. No one would look at her twice in a crowd. That was the whole point.

"Don't you have friends for that?" He answered her carefully, giving her no room for play. He remembered that Helen liked to dice words, make him out to sound needy or foolish. Billy was an intelligent man in their social circles, but Helen was very much his rival in wit. In her presence, he favored silence.

"We're not friends?" She feigned a little sigh. Only a foot away now, Billy saw how time had taken its toll. Helen had been vibrant the last time they'd met. Flawless complexion, bright eyes and jet-black hair, she'd been head-and-shoulders above the competition. Now, he saw the lines around her eyes and the shadows forming there. He saw the results of late nights, shitty food, and too many cigarettes. He saw the years that had climbed on her shoulders.

He saw the same thing in the mirror each morning.

Helen was a madam, but not the traditional kind. She was the kind that kicked your door down and kicked your teeth in if you messed with her or the women she employed. She'd arrived in the game honestly, defending a few girls from the trigger-happy pimps that had started appearing in the outskirts of the city. Women were being abducted and beaten, strung out against their will, and even killed for trying to work a corner on their own. Helen took a dislike to the trend and started dropping bodies.

Lots of people, Billy included, respected her for it.

She'd ended up buying a house in the nicer end of town, which meant more expensive clientele, more privacy and less drunken bar thugs. The women she housed were healthy and clean, some of them moving on after only a year or two of good money. He'd even heard the rumors that Helen paid for a couple of her girls to get out. But she was still no saint. She had a temper and an inclination towards violence. So even though Billy respected Helen, he didn't let his guard down as she crossed the room to him.

"No, I guess we're not friends." She sighed, smiling genuinely for the first time since she'd walked inside. "Otherwise, you'd have taken your hand off your piece by now."

"I'm not pointing it at you, take it as a compliment." He replied. But his hand relaxed on the gun and he let it fall to his side. Helen sat on a stool and turned her body towards the bar, looking at the wall behind the counter. He watched the profile of her face, reading the expression moving there.

"I'm in the weeds, Bill." She spoke quietly. When she met his eyes, a humble look filled her face. The vulnerability made him shift in his seat in discomfort.

He sighed.

"I heard about a shooting in your neck of the woods." He answered gently, keeping any hint of emotion from his voice. The way she was nodding beside him, Billy knew she was as uncomfortable as he was discussing her problems. Because, surely, her sudden appearance meant she needed something. And she needed it from him, a drug dealer. The mystery of what that was made him curious to hear what she had to say.

"It started a couple weeks ago. I had a couple of girls booked for a private party. It was the usual deal: a blonde and a brunette for a few hours on a Saturday night. Business men, nothing too kinky." Billy stood and walked around the counter, prompting Helen to continue with a nod. She ran a hand through her dark hair, the waves falling haphazardly over her shoulders. "When my girls call to check-in, one of them drops their code phrase."

"Code phrase?" He interrupted, holding up a beer. Helen nodded and he cracked the top from the bottle.

"Yeah, like 'We're having a sweet time'. Something you can drop during a phone call and no one looks at you funny." She took the drink from his hand with a smile of appreciation and sipped before she continued. "So I show up a minute later, ready to deck an idiot for getting too rough or something. Suits usually don't know what to do when they're the ones getting smacked around."

Billy snorted and took a long drink. The idea of Helen punching a Wall Street wannabe in the jaw was entertaining, to say the least. He'd forgotten how easy it was to listen to her talk, her voice warm and smooth. It'd been years since they'd spoken more than a few words in passing. It reminded him of a time when they'd been close. Helen grinned at him, as if she could see the memories that were surfacing in his mind. Then she took a drink equal to his own, sighing a little after the swallow.

"Anyway, long story short, these business men were big shots in some Russian outfit. Bodyguards as tall as trees and automatic weapons." She took another drink and he could sense her anxiety. It wasn't something he envied, her job. The people he chased off were usually junkies or drunks, easy pickings for someone his size. He barely had to touch anyone anymore. His reputation scared people away before things could turn sour.

Billy suddenly wondered what Helen thought of who he'd become. She obviously respected him, coming to him for a frank conversation. They were talking like they were old neighbors, shooting the shit over a fence. He waited for her to continue, leaning his forearms against the bar.

"I told them the weapons were a violation of our business terms and I got the girls out before anyone could block the exit, so to speak." She muttered. "I thought maybe that would be the end of it."

"But they shot at you?" Billy interjected, his brow creased low. She nodded.

"The next day." She smirked angrily. "And not at me, at a car parked in front of my house."

"Not great for business, I'm assuming." He put the two together.

"Not really, no." Helen faked a smile and took a small sip. "The police were all over the place. No kind of good business has stepped within a mile since."

"Lemme guess." Billy muttered, walking back around the bar. "Right after the shooting…the Russians started calling."

"Bingo." She snorted. "Assholes told me they heard 'business vas slow'." Helen set her beer down and turned to face him on her barstool. "I'm not looking to start shit with a private security firm and a branch of the Russian mob."

"Don't blame ya."

"So…" Helen stood from her chair, closing the distance between them until it was under a foot. Billy could smell her shampoo, something sugary like vanilla. He held still as she approached, his instincts reminding him that the woman standing in front of him was still a threat. And she'd dropped men his size before. "I want to hire you."

He blinked a few times then snorted.

"Hire us to start shit with the Russians?" Helen shook her head and pushed him by the front of his chest, sending his weight to the back of his heels. He barely moved, but his skin rang from where her palms were pressed to his body. First, he hadn't realized he'd advanced on her. Second, he hadn't expected the physical contact of a shove. Helen seemed to notice the shock that registered between them and she quickly retracted her hands from his chest, holding them open in a moment of apology before she spoke.

"As extra security." They both took a moment before Helen broke the silence. "I just want them gone, Bill. Out of town, out of my shit. If they get their way, and I keep close tabs…"

"…maybe they won't shoot at you again?" He chuffed, still a little flustered from being touched, however briefly.

"Maybe they'll take me off their shit list and just leave. And maybe I could start making money again sometime this century." She muttered. "I'd pay you and your men well."

He considered facts for a moment. Helen had come to see him, alone, where no one would see them converse. She was asking for help from him, revealing an amount of respect.

Helen still trusted him. After all these years, she'd turned to him.

"How well?" Billy all but decided to accept before she even named a figure. Something in his gut was telling him it was what he needed to do. Being around Helen had triggered sensations he hadn't felt in years, and the idea of spending more time with her was intriguing. Besides, a little extra money never hurt anyone.

"$30 an hour is the going rate for decent security. I figure three of your guys, plus you, for a few hours…$500 flat. Split it how you like."

"I pick the guys." He stated. She nodded and swept an arm wide.

"By all means, bring the cream of the crop." Helen surprised him again, taking a step forward until they were inches apart again. "But I want level tempers, no itchy trigger fingers or hot heads."

Billy made a face.

"They'll listen to me."

The two of them seemed to lock eyes then, minds wandering from the conversation at hand. Billy had missed her spirit. No woman had ever really been like Helen in his book. She was always so casual but sharply aware of herself. Their interactions always felt like a duel. Or a dance.

They hadn't always been opponents.

"Good." Helen broke his train of thought and pulled a wallet out of her jacket pocket, thumbing through bills. Billy's stomach grew warm. He'd been coming up short with Bones for a few days and extra money was such a welcome sight, it was bringing him physical relief. "$200 now, $300 after." She handed him the wad of bills. Billy raised an eyebrow.

"$250 now, $250 after."

Helen bit her lip and Billy's heart purred in his chest. Such a simple act, but the memories it brought back had him reeling. Looking at her now, he forgot about the flaws he'd seen when she'd first appeared. She wasn't the young teenager he'd known. That girl was still there, inside a smarter and stronger woman. Even now, as she toyed with him, her green eyes sparkled with a mischief he remembered from years ago.

She handed over the $50 with a sigh.

"Party is tomorrow night. I'll send a town car here at nine-thirty sharp."

"Fine." He forced a short reply, playing down his interest.

"I'll pay you at the end of the night, around one." She replaced her cash and wallet in her jacket. "Wear black. Jeans and t-shirts will do." Helen looked at his outfit. "Not that you ever had an issue wearing plenty of black." Billy gave her a sarcastic smile.

"Cute."

She gave him a snide grin and picked her beer up off the counter. Finishing it in one long pull, she set it down with a soft sigh.

"Thanks for the drink." Then she looked him in the eyes again, the teasing gone. He wanted to give her reason to stay and maybe draw out more of the girl he remembered. But he knew that would be a mistake, so he simply nodded.

As she started walking towards the front door, he wanted to tell her it was nice seeing her. Something to communicate that the boy she'd known all those years ago was still there. That he remembered what they had once been to each other. He let the sentiment get to him, a smile fluttering over his lips.

"See you tomorrow, Hell."

The nickname made her pause in the door. Before she let it swing closed behind her, he could have sworn he heard her laugh.

* * *

Authors Note: I'm back! Sorta. I've recently had the urge to write again, so I'm looking at new things and old things to see what I'd like to do...see what catches my fancy. This chapter is almost exactly like a scene I'd previously written in Ten Grand and a Million Years [loosely similar]. But, looking at it years later, I realized it was a little far fetched and could use some updating. I've matured a little and so has my writing style ;) I'm actually planning on making this into a new short-ish story [4 or 5 chapters max] to replace A House Divided. I wrote myself into a tough corner with that story [not to mention its pretty long and i hate it HAHA] so I'll probably just reinvent it here and let the other story die. New plot, new relationship dynamic. Anyway, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy :)


	2. Chapter 2

Ilya Mikhailov was a tall man, oozing charisma and style as he opened the door to the huge home he owned in the outskirts of Boston. The place was probably a luxury rental of some sort, or possibly a house owned by the Russians that was only temporarily occupied. It was obvious that the place wasn't lived in regularly, as there wasn't a lick of landscaping or patio furniture outside the house. It was a grand home with a cold exterior, but it screamed money. And the several black sedans that had lined the circle driveway screamed guests and more money. If this worked out, the reward would be well worth the nightmare of a month she'd had. So when their host appeared, Helen faked it. Pushing down all her fear, and any remaining doubts, she held her breath to avoid taking in a lung-full of Calvin Klein and forced her mouth into a smile.

"Mr. Mikhailov." Her voice sounded like maple syrup and she nearly grimaced at the rehearsed charm. He waved them inside with a gracious smile. His teeth were bleached and his hair was dyed, all in an attempt to shave off a decade of his true age.

"Ms. Gates." He took her hand and kissed it before she had a moment to react. Then Billy was suddenly at her side, his body filling her peripheral vision. Ilya's eyes turned to her sudden bodyguard and a grin appeared on his lips as she quickly retrieved her hand.

"I brought extra security, to ensure things go as smoothly as possible." She smiled and nodded to Billy while they stepped aside. Billy's eyes never left Ilya's face. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he looked downright territorial. "Billy Darley, this is Ilya Mikhailov." She addressed Billy and his eyes snapped to her, like he'd been pulled from a trance. His stony expression softened and he nodded. Ilya returned the nod and gestured behind him, where a man stood silently in the hallway.

His pale hair and black eyes took Helen's pulse up a notch.

"Anton Baskin, my head of security." Ilya smiled back at the blond, who remained unmoved by the introduction. "I'm sure you remember Ms. Gates, Baskin." Only then did the blond nod his head, acknowledging her presence with the smallest of gestures. Ilya clapped his hands together, and Helen nearly jumped out of her skin. "Now that we're all friends, come in!"

Billy moved aside and Helen took a cleansing breath as the girls stepped through the door. They were giggling and whispering, all of the perfumes they wore mingling together in a large sickly-sweet cloud. Billy's man, Baggy, led them, his face set to one of stony indifference. Heco and Bodie brought up the rear, following the herd through the foyer. Ilya offered his arm to Helen and she took it, hoping her hand wasn't shaking as they touched.

"I hope you enjoy the party." He spoke in her ear, his breath brushing over the arch of her neck.

"I'm here as a business arrangement." She reminded him politely, forcing a smile back on her lips.

"A true shame." Ilya replied. "Don't you think, Baskin?" The blond was leading their little group while Billy stayed behind Helen. She could feel the heat of him on her back, like a reassuring coat of armor. When Baskin said nothing, Helen let out a short laugh.

"I'm sure your friends will be pleased with the girls I've selected."

"Of course." Ilya nodded genuinely. "The best of Boston, I'm to understand. But you—" He stopped and placed his hand over the hand she'd rested on his arm. "You are the true beauty here tonight."

To her shame, Helen felt a blush form on her cheeks. Men in her life never dared call her beautiful, or comment on her looks in any way. As much as she didn't care for his comment, Ilya's words were so foreign she didn't know how to react except look away and continue walking.

The main house was large, the long foyer opening to a main room with vaulted ceilings. White sectional sofas circled the room with plenty of seating, and a large bar ran across the back wall. It was all staffed with catering and bartenders.

There were dozens of men mingling, talking and drinking out of little glasses. Their eyes all found their way to the girls, who took no time finding partners. Their arms were taken, their hands filled with dainty drinks in a matter of moments.

Helen stood at the entrance, watching them with her breath held. For each of Billy's men, there were two of Ilya's bodyguards. They stood silently around the perimeter, hiding in shadows where no one would notice. But the guns on their belts or strapped to their torsos weren't hard to miss, even under suit jackets.

Ilya was speaking in Russian to Baskin, their voices hushed as if she could overhear let alone understand. Billy took the interruption to move to her right, dipping his head to speak into her ear.

"We're sitting ducks if this goes south." He growled. Helen lifted her head to look him in the eye.

"Then let's make sure it doesn't." She replied.

* * *

Billy hated the place. It smelled like rich people and too much cologne. While Helen mingled with random businessmen throughout the room, he tracked her with his eyes from the bar. Unlike usual, he wasn't drinking tonight. None of his guys were, their heads in the game like he'd told them they needed to be. He'd picked his best guys and they had all beamed with pride when he'd told them why he'd only called them to the bar that afternoon. He trusted all his guys: Dog, Jaime, Tommy and Spink included. But tonight, he needed his very best.

Bodie was carefully watching a blonde woman as she flirted with two skinny, older men, laughing and smiling to put them at ease with her superior looks. All of Helen's women were absolute knockouts. Not the kind that modeled on runways or anything, but the best looking women these men would probably ever get in the sack. They were the faces of the girls in Internet porn ads: absurdly beautiful, yet somehow they'd wound up sucking cock for a living.

Baggy was hanging in a corner, keeping tabs on another of the girls, her hand playing with one man's hair at the nape of his neck. They were all so good at making these fat cats feel like they were attractive. Most of them were packing an average of thirty pounds over a healthy body weight and many had at least twenty years on the girls in their midst. Billy wanted to roll his eyes as laughter broke out in a group, one of the men gesturing with his chubby hands as he told what was -clearly- one killer joke.

Heco had vanished in the hallway a few minutes earlier, carefully tailing a group of three men who'd retreated with a tall brunette, her hips sashaying them back to a private room for alone time. Those idiots probably thought they'd won the lottery. Billy swallowed a grin. More than two was a crowd, in his opinion. Especially when one someone didn't get a hole to—

"Everything good?" Helen appeared beside him and he curtly nodded, his eyes never leaving the interior of the room. She breathed softly, tipping a glass of something clear back to her lips. There was a lime floating in the ice and he made the leap to gin. "I wish they'd all just blow their loads so we could leave."

Billy let a little grin peep through.

"Patience." He murmured, eyeing her drink as she sloshed more into her mouth. He got a whiff when she sighed. Gin.

"I'm not the kind of madam who whores herself out to the clientele with fake smiles while her whores rock fake orgasms." She muttered, rattling ice around in her glass. "And I'm not really looking to learn how to do small talk."

"You're doin' fine." Billy replied. Helen was doing more than fine; she was like a different person tonight. She moved around the room like she was so comfortable there, talking softly to her girls and smiling to guests. It was like someone had body snatched her and replaced the rough-edged girl from Southie with a city socialite. When the Russian had pulled the hand-kiss move, Billy had anticipated Helen to reply with a right hook. The fact that the sucker still had teeth was nothing short of astounding.

"Thanks." Helen was sucking on an ice cube, crushing it in her molars. The sound made him think of her in jeans and a t-shirt, sitting at the Four Roses while they shot the shit over cheap drinks. Her casual tone and crunching made him realize just how out of their element they were. This was the deep end of the pool, and he hoped they weren't drowning.

"That blond creep keeps looking at you." Billy changed the subject, his eyes locking onto the Russian's head of security. The guy was a complete freak show. No expressions, barely a blink of an eye since they'd arrived, and he hadn't stopped staring at Helen since she'd stepped foot in the house. It made Billy want to rearrange his limbs.

"Baskin." She muttered, taking another ice cube into her mouth. "He's probably the dickhead who sent me that bullet love letter." Her laugh was dark. "Should send him a bill."

"Think he'll be a problem?" Billy mumbled, shifting so he could feel the weight of his gun in the small of his back.

"Fuck if I know." More crunching. "The Russian seems to keep him on a pretty adequate leash."

Billy looked for Ilya in the room. The host was standing in the middle of the room, his arm around the shoulders of another man as he spoke very rapidly in Russian. All the men around him were paying close attention, like they didn't want to miss a word, or seem disinterested and rude. It gave the impression that, despite his friendly air, Ilya Mikhailov was an important person. Someone with a lot of weight to throw around that you wanted to keep happy.

"Well." Helen sighed and Billy took a moment to glance at her. Her hair was expertly messy around her shoulders and the ice had left her lips bright red from the cold. He had to hold in the impulse to lick his own lips. "I guess I could stick close to him. Make sure he's happy."

"Channel that inner beauty queen." Billy added coyly, returning his gaze to the room so he wouldn't smile at her reaction. Helen snorted.

"Right. World peace, blah blah." She walked away from him then, her ass drawing his attention more than he wanted to admit. In those lethal black heels, her calves were tight and the effect traveled all the way up to her ass. Too bad she was wearing way too much clothing. No mini skirts or shorts for her. That wasn't her style. What Helen had, she kept to herself. But the skin-tight pants she had on were enough to get his imagination rolling.

As she approached Ilya and his little circle, the man snapped for a waiter and Helen's empty glass was promptly replaced with a full one. Then he seemed to wrap her in a conversation, leaning in to speak so intimately in her ear.

His palms stung, and Billy was shocked to realize he'd balled his hands into fists. Relaxing, he nodded his head as if to shake the dumb out. Tonight wasn't about getting territorial and touchy. He was here as Helen's backup, not her guard dog. If anything, she needed him to keep his eyes on everything but her, because she had that covered.

When Helen had first started her little operation, he'd had a hard time believing the rumors. Skinny, 100-pounds-soaking-wet Helen Gates, gutting pimps in alleyways? He'd thought it was ridiculous at the time. Then he'd seen some of her work up-close and personal when one of her kills had wound up dead in an alley by his corner. Not by her design, he'd realized, but by dumb luck. The guy had stumbled blocks away from where she'd attacked him, losing blood along the way until he'd run out of gas feet from where Billy had been perched that night.

The guy had hit the dirt with such an abrupt slam; it was obvious he'd been unconscious before he'd reached the ground. A little time later, she'd appeared, stepping out of the dark alley and panting from exertion. Billy had just stared at her, the cigarette in his fingers smoldering down to the butt. He'd watched while she'd looked down at the bastard below her, reached down, and -with a little struggle- retrieved her knife from the guy's eye socket. Gone was the lanky girl he remembered from high school. The woman wiping blood off a knife on her jeans had filled out. Even from across the street, he'd seen the muscles moving under the skin on her arms. Then she'd met Billy's stare, closed her knife, and disappeared back into the dark.

He looked up at Helen across the room, watched her take a drink of the fresh gin in her hand.

After that night, he'd never doubted Helen's ability to take care of herself. But it didn't keep him from hating the way the Russian greaseball kept leaning into her, touching her arm with small brushes of his hand. Helen gave Billy no sign of discomfort or irritation, her face set in a natural easy expression. So when Ilya took her by the elbow and lead her into the back hallway, Billy swallowed back the anxiety that flooded him.

Helen was on her own.


	3. Chapter 3

After the night was over, and money was exchanged in a long and stressful conversation, Helen was glad to haul all her girls out of the house and shove them into one of two cars waiting for them outside. She felt like a teacher on a field trip, counting heads and assessing faces as they all disappeared into the dark sedan. When Billy had stopped to talk to his guys, Helen took the opportunity to slip away, ducking into the second car alone.

Her heart was slamming against her ribs as she sat back in the leather seat. The night had gone well and Ilya had made it clear to her that he intended to continue their business relationship. She'd been careful to navigate their private conversation with frank business attitude, side-stepping his repeated attempts to flatter her into an arrangement between them that fell beyond their business. If she had to guess, the guy would probably have fucked her over his desk tonight if she'd let him.

She had been polite, yet firm, keeping that boundary uncrossed. The discussion in that back room had been exhausting. Yet she knew it was only the first of many. If they were going to make this a common practice, her nerves needed to turn to steel. She couldn't let one hard-to-read foreigner in a nice suit make her feel like running back to the comfortable dark corners from whence she came.

Breathing in the car alone, she felt her pulse slow. It had been a long time since she'd been so frightened. She was playing out of her league and could have easily lost. One bad turn of phrase or misunderstanding could have made this night slant sideways in rush. And yet this evening was supposed to have garnered trust between Ilya and herself. Bullshit. If anything, it had shown her that she was in bed with a load of vipers.

The car door opened abruptly and she gasped, reaching for the knife tucked in her back pocket. But she didn't need it. Billy entered the car in a smooth motion, closing the door behind him as quickly as he'd opened it.

"What happened?" He barked at her, his eyes running over every inch of her body.

"Nothing." She recovered, sliding over so he wasn't so close. It was one thing to be afraid, but another to show that fear to anyone who could use it against her. "He just wanted to clear the air about…things."

"I bet he did." Billy snorted angrily. "Did he touch you?"

Helen whipped her head around to stare at him.

"Touch me?"

"You bolted out of the back hall so fast, I thought maybe—" He looked her over again, and she realized that he was looking for anything out of place.

"Jesus." She hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"No—"

"You think I need you to protect me?" Helen snapped, cutting Billy short. If she could have walked away, she would have. "Get out."

"Hell."

"I said, GET OUT." The anxiety that had built behind her well-guarded defenses started to beat against her like ocean waves. All the good manners and sharp banter had chipped away at her controlled façade until it had cracked. Her heart raced and her hands shook while she waited for Billy to leave. But he didn't move. Didn't even blink. Helen stared at the window behind him to avoid his searing eyes, because if she looked at him, she wasn't sure what would follow.

"Talk to me." He spoke to her with a softness she didn't deserve. Helen made the mistake of looking at him.

The tender understanding there made her heart stop dead. He wasn't going to argue with her, or yell at her. The rough street thug had taken a sideline for the kid she remembered: the boy who'd listened to her and had stolen her heart away all those years ago.

"Go." She was pleading with him now, begging he'd do what was best for both of their reputations: hers as a heartless madam and his as a ruthless gang lord. His expression flat lined and cool relief spread through her chest as she recognized defeat. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out the wad of cash she owed him and tossed it across the seat. "You did me a solid. I won't forget it."

"Keep it." He muttered, his eyes never leaving her face. "I don't want your money."

"It's what we agreed."

"Don't want it."

"Take it."

"No."

"What do you want?" Helen asked the stupid question before she could slam the breaks on it and Billy was across the seat before she'd finished speaking. His face halted inches from hers, those eyes piercing through any defenses she had left.

"I want to break that sonofabitch's hands for touching you. I wanted to stand in front of you all night so he couldn't look at you."

She couldn't breathe. If she had, her air would have been his.

"If he hurt you, I want go back in that house and break both his legs."

"He didn't." She whispered. Billy looked all over her face, reading her for a lie. But he wouldn't find one. Contented, he moved to retreat, shifting his weight back in the seat.

Helen grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back.

She crushed his mouth to hers with a hunger she hadn't felt in years. All of her pent up anxiety releasing in one, rushed moment. Her body went limp against his as he enveloped her in his arms, bringing her chest flush against his solid torso. He tasted like cigarettes and clean skin, his lips dominating yet gentle. Billy growled as she tasted him, teasing with her tongue.

He responded in kind, his hands pressing on the base of her hips. She fit against him like a perfect key, soft against hard, flat against curve. A moan ripped out of her mouth as he nipped her throat and parted her legs with a thigh.

"The driver." He purred into her neck, a laugh growling from his chest. "He'll hear you."

"Shut up." She hissed, grabbing at his shirt. She loved the way he looked in black, but she'd love him naked more.

Billy quickly ripped the shirt over his head, revealing the tattoos she'd never fully seen. His chest was dusted with dark hair, different from the blond it had been years ago. Muscles filled out his skin and bulged in his shoulders, rippling with strength when he lunged at her again. She dug her nails into his back and relished the feel of him. He was not the boy she remembered. It made her heart fall to her stomach and a blush rise to her cheeks. This wouldn't be an awkward fumble on a broken-down couch at a house party.

Her shirt was the next thing to go, the delicate blouse roughly discarded onto the floor. Billy took a moment to run his hands over her, the calloused skin on his palms raising goosebumps on her arms.

"Shit, Hell." He whispered against her collarbone, kissing her with such delicate brushes of his lips she couldn't help but moan. "You're beautiful."

Her body warmed from head to toe. Beautiful. That was the second time she'd been called that in the last few hours, and yet the effect of this particular compliment was so different from the first. It was a revealing word from a man who rarely said anything remotely kind to anyone. She felt herself shying away, the instinct to retreat fluttering in her chest. But Billy didn't give her the chance.

He consumed her with a kiss, sliding into her mouth while skilled hands unhooked her bra. She let the garment fall from her body. It was the most vulnerable she'd been in a long time. She'd slept with men since Billy, of course. But they'd been one-night stands or quickies with no intimacy, their faces fading from memory in a matter of hours. This, with Billy, was something she wouldn't forget.

He pulled her onto his lap like she weighed nothing, spreading her legs so she fit around his waist. Reeling her in close, he tangled a hand in her hair and kissed her. Slowly. There wasn't an ounce of urgency in the kiss. Helen pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Soft breasts to hard chest, the feeling made her shiver.

Billy's hands found her ass, gripping her through the material of her pants. She seemed to remember he'd been an ass guy when they were young, favoring a tight pair of pants to a pair of DD's. And maybe she'd been thinking about that when she'd put on the mostly latex pants he was currently groping her through. To be honest, she'd entirely dressed for him. While picking her clothes, she'd been imagining this, right now: his body against hers as he took those same clothes off.

"God I wish you wore skirts." He grunted against her lips. She snorted, giving his lip a playful bite. Billy snarled and filled her mouth with his tongue. Her body was radiating heat, the spot between her legs beating like a second heart. He'd improved his kissing game since they'd been teenagers, and it was driving her mad. It made her think of what he was going to do to her with his entire body, how he'd dominate her with his cock like he was with his mouth. It had been a long time since she'd surrendered that kind of control to anyone. Trust was something she didn't give away easily, but damn he'd earned it. After the way he'd stayed by her side that night, the way he'd made very clear that he wanted to protect her, regardless of the implications, she wasn't afraid to let him in.

In all the ways she could.

A knock on the car door made them both jump, Billy bouncing her off his lap to the seat beside him. Helen covered her chest with her hands and turned away as Billy roared at the intrusion.

"WHAT."

"We're at the destination." The driver's voice was bored, like he'd had to break up more than one hook up in his day. The guy probably dealt with couples like them all the time.

Helen ripped her bra off the floor and cursed. _Couples_. Was she drunk? How much gin had she had?

"We'll be out in a second." Billy grunted, turning his head to watch her strap the black, lacy bra back on her chest. She cursed as she fiddled, out of practice with the stupid thing. His fingers gently found the clasps for her and she met his eyes as he righted them. It felt like they stared at each other for a solid minute, just breathing and leaving so many things unsaid.

"I didn't realize we'd left. Did you?" Helen finally whispered, a laugh on her voice. Billy shook his head but didn't speak. She grabbed his shirt off the floor and tossed it to him, retrieving her own as well. "Time flies—"

"I want you." He growled.

* * *

Billy was pissed. At himself, the way Helen was clearly embarrassed, and the stupid driver for getting them back to the Four Roses as quickly as he had. It had felt like they'd been in that car for less than five minutes, but it must have been closer to twenty. The drive across the city was not a short one. His body was still roaring, hot to the touch from the sex they were about to have moments ago. Helen messed her hair and looked at him, her eyes clear and honest.

"Yeah." She drifted off, her gaze redirecting to her top in her lap.

"Come home with me." He urged, trying to hide the needy undertone in his voice. This wasn't some nobody he'd picked up at a bar. He didn't need to beg those scatter-brained bar flies to let him finish what he'd started. The woman he could still taste on his tongue was Helen. She was **that** girl: the girl he saw in his head when he thought of a good roll in the sack or toe-curling quickie in a dark room. The girl to which he secretly compared all others when it came to looks, behavior or intelligence. Shit, they'd only stripped to the waist and he was so hard it hurt. That hadn't been a thing he'd felt since he was a teenager. It made him feel out of control, but in an intoxicatingly good way.

"No." She was gentle as she turned him down, slipping the blouse over her head again.

He wished he'd ripped the thing in half when he'd had the chance.

Helen smiled at him and leaned over, giving him a long, lingering kiss. Billy licked into her mouth and she made a little noise. Like she was telling herself to back away before she fell in again. When she sat back she hissed like she'd been burned.

"Fuck." She whispered.

"Let's." He tacked on the word with a grin and she laughed, covering her mouth. The way her eyes danced when she did that made him want to make her do it again. Laugh. Moan. Anything.

"In another life, Bill." She bit her lip with a sad smile. "Maybe we could have been something."

His back stiffened and he shrugged, ripping his shirt over his head _._ That wasn't something he was prepared to do tonight. Fuck her brains out in the back of a car, sure. Take her home and christen every surface in his apartment, yeah. But he didn't dwell in the hypothetical. Didn't get into the emotional bullshit of 'what if' and 'maybe'. Billy could only think about the now, or he'd never be able to live with all the things he'd missed. Like finishing high school or having a normal childhood.

"Whatever." He murmured, rubbing a hand over his scalp before he plucked the wad of cash off the seat. He tucked it in his pants before he opened the door and the cold night air rushed inside. "See ya, Hell."

* * *

A/N: love me, hate me?


	4. Chapter 4

_His mouth tasted like whiskey, the cheap kind. It was sharp and tangy, with an aftertaste that made her want another hit. She always got it. Back and forth, they moved together, mouths tangled in a kiss that didn't seem to end. He'd breathe and she'd gasp, pulling him back for more. More and more until her head swam. This was what all those sappy songs on the radio were about. How could you be lying down and yet feel like you were flying?_

 _Or falling._

 _He'd catch her, she knew. His rough hands and strong arms would always be there to catch her. He'd said as much when he'd cornered her at Wayne Clark's weekend kegger. With a ruthless smile, he had stolen her heart from her chest. His smooth bass and his beautiful eyes had melted the ice around her heart._

 _Billy Darley had been like a dog after a bone. At first, Helen had figured it was just a game, his chasing her. Like she'd finally come up in the roster of girls he hadn't hooked up with. What surprised her, though, was his insistence. He'd followed her around school, asking her dumb questions about herself. Did she want a ride home? Could he buy her a burger sometime?_

 _She'd ignored him. For a while: months. She'd told him to go find someone interested in him. Told him she'd rather eat broken glass than kiss him. But he'd always just smiled._

 _Then Richard Thompson had decided it would be funny to call her a bitch in chemistry. It was nothing memorable, just a stupid boy saying something mean to a girl. Besides, Helen hadn't really cared what Dick Thompson thought of her. Apparently Billy had. He'd heard about it and found him in the hallway, then made a crater in the kid's face. But Dicky hadn't been alone and his football buddies gave Billy a run for his money. Three on one._

 _Helen could still remember the way Billy had been dragged off with the other boys, the fistfight causing a huge scene in the middle of the school. Blood had stained the front of his shirt from the split in his lip; and yet he'd grinned when he saw her, his white teeth covered in a filmy red. That's when she'd realized just what kind boy he was and what he was capable of. She felt the danger of him for the first time. Not like she'd anticipated, however. Billy Darley didn't scare her because he was violent. Billy scared her because she wanted him. She wanted all of him._

 _And at Wayne Clark's party, he'd told her just how much he wanted her. He'd said things, with hushed words and careful smiles that made her heart skip in her chest. In the quiet of a corner, the tall, blond, bad boy had lowered her defenses for good._

 _"What do you want from me, Billy?" She'd trembled when his knuckle brushed over her cheekbone._

 _"Just you. You're what I want, Hell."_

 _Then he'd taken her into that dark room, to that forgotten couch. He'd kissed her so thoroughly she forgotten her own name. And now he was above her, his hands so gentle as he held her against him. Every inch of him was fused to her, like she'd been molded to fit there, and only there. And when he finally -FINALLY- moved inside of her, she swore she'd never let him go._

* * *

Helen woke up sweating. Breathing like she was running a race, she put a hand over her heart and closed her eyes. The images in her head were so vivid, right against the surface, like she'd been under him only a second ago. But those memories were old. She'd buried them deep in the attic of her mind, letting them gather dust and rot. Now they flashed in her eyes with renewed energy. Renewed need.

"Jesus." She hissed at herself, throwing off her sheets to pad around the room. Her little apartment was almost empty except for a bed and a closet full of clothes, so she made her way around in the dark without issue. Walking out to the kitchen, she fished for the stale pack of cigarettes in a kitchen drawer, muttering she'd quit again tomorrow. Tonight, she needed to smoke. She needed to take the edge off all the heat under her skin and buzzing in her brain.

Opening the glass sliding door to her tiny balcony, she stood in her bare feet and breathed in the freezing night air. Instantly, her body broke out in goosebumps, her oversized t-shirt and underwear doing nothing to stop the cold from seeping into her bones.

She lit a cigarette and perched on top of the sad railing. It was late, or really early. There was hardly any noise outside, the nightlife fading into silence as everything finally stilled. Taking a deep breath of smoke, Helen closed her eyes and listened to nothing.

The taste of his lips invaded her thoughts, the soft satin of his mouth sending a chill down her spine. She blew out the smoke in her lungs and shivered. All the memories of Billy were like ghosts in a graveyard, haunting her since he'd left her in the back of that town car. She'd ridden home smelling him, tasting him, wanting him. It had been the longest drive of her life. Now, old feelings were stirring in her gut, making her curse and drag harder on the cigarette in her hand.

"Goddamn it."

* * *

Billy's head was pounding. Seven shots of jäger and how many beers? The night had ended in a blur of drinking. When he was younger, that shit was easy. He wasn't twenty anymore. Now, that shit hurt.

Sitting up, he scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. How long had he been out? Nine hours? Three days? Thirty years?

"Fuck, you look gorgeous." Joey leaned in the doorway to the living room, his elbow propped up near his head on the wall. Grinning from ear to ear, he snorted. "Looks like you're gonna need some serious hair of the dog."

"Would you stop yelling?" Billy growled, pushing his upper body off the couch. He swayed a little and had to take a moment to breathe. Just breathe. "Christ."

"Joey will do." His brother joked. "So what's it gonna be? Little bit of jack to rise and shine? Or is a bloody Mary more your speed, old man?"

"Fuck off." Just the idea of drinking made him feel like heaving. Blinking at his bare feet on the floor, he fought the sensation away.

"Greasy breakfast, coming right up."

Billy groaned as the images made his stomach roll. "Joey, shut the fuck up." He forced himself to slowly stand, his eyes closed as he fought the pain in his head. "Just shut the fuck up or I'll crack your skull in two."

"Right. Because you're doing so well right now." Joey jabbed, smirking at him as he threw on a coat. Billy flashed a glare at his brother to remind him that -despite his condition- he'd be more than able to beat him into submission any day. Joey held his hands up. "Alright alright, just kidding."

"Just get the fuck out." Billy snarled, watching his brother shake his head and open the door. "And don't come back unless you have coffee."

"Only if you ask nicely." Joey wiggled his eyebrows over his shoulder. Billy had half a mind to throw an ashtray at him but the kid slammed the door before he had a chance. The sound knocked Billy back onto his ass, the sofa enveloping him as his ears rang.

"Sonofabitch."

He rubbed his head and surrendered to the couch. His pulse was in his ears, ringing like a laugh.

Because _haha_ , he'd been shot down. Billy grimaced as he forced away the thought. But even his ego had been bruised by the events of last night. **She** had turned him down. The one girl he actually wanted and she was the one who said no.

His junk pulsed in his jeans, reminding him that he was still in need of a release. And not a piss. He rested his hand on his dick and let out a grunt at the ache that replied in his balls. The poor boys were probably still a lovely shade of blue. Billy swallowed back a frustrated sigh. There had been plenty of women at the Four Roses the night before. He'd debated getting sucked off by one of the many willing ladies who'd walked by their booth. But no, instead he'd chosen to let his dick sit back and suffer against the seam of his jeans.

His phone started to ring on his hip, as if his throbbing balls weren't enough discomfort. The sound shrieked in the silent apartment before he ripped the thing out of his pocket and snapped it open.

"Fuck, WHAT?" He yelled. "Joey I swear—"

"Mmm, no. Try again." Helen's voice sent a jolt down his spine, sitting him up on the couch like she had hold of his strings. "And this time, try not to scream into the damn phone. My ears work fine."

"Hell." He murmured, her irritation warming his stomach like a good cup of coffee.

"I'd say good morning, but I'm guessing that's not the case." She hissed. "Plus it's almost noon."

"Did you call to tell me the time?" Billy growled back, hoisting his sorry ass off the sofa to wander down the hall. She sighed.

"I called to make sure we were cool."

"Why wouldn't we be?" He muttered, rounding the corner into the bathroom. One look in the mirror and he winced. Getting trashed didn't look good on him. Dark circles under his eyes stood out against his pale complexion and hollow stare.

"Were my tits that forgettable?"

Billy hissed as his cock pulsed a solid _fuck no._ He rubbed a hand over his face and relinquished a sigh, or was it a laugh? Helen laughed back and he felt himself grinning behind his palm.

"Didn't think so." She murmured. He could see her lips, curled in a smirk. His dick gave a small kick and he gave the guy a squeeze through his jeans.

"We're cool." He managed to reply.

"Good. Because I'll probably need you, Billy." She sounded worried suddenly and he glared up at the mirror.

"The Russian's already called you?" He asked.

"No, but he made it clear he will." She sighed. "And I felt …better with backup."

She felt safe with him. The unspoken truth in her hesitation made his chest fill with pride. Billy grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Then ask me." He purred into the phone, wishing like mad that she were standing in front of him so he could look at her face. He wanted her eyes on him.

"Ask you what? To be my buddy?" She used a voice thick with sarcasm and he snorted at her.

"Ask me to have your back." He spoke softly but seriously. And Helen took her time answering.

"Bill, can I count on you to have my back?" Her voice sent shockwaves down his body. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on the mirror and closed his eyes.

"For $500 a night, you've got it."

Her sigh was one of relief and Billy shivered at the sound. He relished the trust she'd placed in him and the heat it brought to his chest. He didn't just have her back; he'd make heads roll and level cities if it meant hearing that sound on her lips. His body pulsed with greed, his cock straining at the front of his jeans.

"Thanks." She whispered. "I owe you...again."

 _Christ_ , his body hummed. He wanted her to make good on those favors, for hours. Days. His fingers popped open the button on his jeans and he freed his cock with a stifled moan.

"Hey." She was speaking again, but he barely heard her over his heart in his ears.

"Yeah?" His voice came out breather than he'd intended and he flinched, palming his shaft against the bathroom sink.

"I said I'd keep you updated…you okay?" She sounded irritated; she was annoyed he wasn't listening to her. But he was listening. He was listening to her voice and stroking the shit out of himself. He'd been so painfully hard when he'd gotten out of that car. And he'd stayed that way until the early hours of the morning.

"I'm fine." Billy managed to growl. His dick jumped in his hand as he thought about her on that backseat. Her blouse on the floor and her chest bare...

"Billy." She said his name and he practically howled, coughing to hide the moan of pure need that ripped from his throat. His voice sounded like gravel when he forced out a reply.

"What?"

"See you soon." She purred at him. Goddamn her, she knew. He snapped the phone closed and fucked his palm until he couldn't feel the floor under his feet. And then he came on his hand like a teenager, clawing at the mirror to keep upright. When the high faded and his heart returned to it's place in his chest, he looked up. Dick in hand, jeans around his thighs, his face had a little more color in the cheeks and his eyes were glazed with lust. Panting, he grinned at his reflection.

"See you soon, Hell."

* * *

A/N: It feels like I end all these chapters with the same line ;)


	5. Chapter 5

She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering idly if she was losing her mind. Since when was she the kind of woman to slave over picking an outfit, let alone worry about what it looked like on her? Helen sighed at the woman in the mirror and shook her head.

"Am I fighting a losing battle, Kate?" She asked gently, her eyes sweeping over her plain features in the mirror. The makeup there was light, but it made her feel alien in her own skin. Too…buttery, too painted. She preferred a clean face to the one staring back at her. Her companion stepped into view in the mirror and snorted.

"Since when do you worry about that?" Kate warmly hugged her from behind and Helen wanted to wiggle away. She hated hugs: especially now, as her face burned from embarrassment. Kate picked up on it immediately. "Oh, you were serious—"

"It's fine." Helen muttered, walking out of the embrace towards the bedroom door. Suddenly, she wished she'd gotten ready at her apartment instead of the house. The house had the tendency to feel like a prison to her. So many people just _existing_ in the same space. It made her crave the emptiness and solitude of her tiny place in Southie.

"STOP." Kate ordered. Helen stuttered to a halt in front of the closed door, her hand on the knob. "Come back here."

She obeyed. And wound up in yet another hug. With a little protesting, she managed to bat Kate away. "Enough with the hugging."

"You're acting weird! Forgive me for swamping you with affection." Kate was laughing behind her eyes. "What's bothering you?"

"What isn't?" Helen huffed, sitting roughly on the edge of Kate's bed. Kate had the nicest room in the house: the master bedroom. It was one of a few rooms on the second floor and had a tall, vaulted ceiling with skylights. It was nicer than any bedroom Helen had ever seen and probably why she'd bought the house. The middle-class extravagance had stolen her breath away and then she'd promptly handed it over to her best friend.

Her sister.

Kate plopped onto the mattress beside her and sighed.

"Well, I think you're overreacting." She pushed her shoulder gently. "The party last week was fine. This one is going to be fine. Just relax."

"I'm not supposed to be relaxed." Helen snorted. "I'm the one who's supposed to be cracking the whip and getting everyone in the game." Kate giggled.

"This isn't the dick riding Olympics, H. It's just a party."

She laughed, shaking her head. Looking over at her sister, she couldn't help but notice how her smile made her look radiant. In her opinion, Kate was the most beautiful of the girls in the house. Her dark blonde hair was naturally straight and there wasn't a need to cake makeup on her face; her complexion was fair and even, topped off with deep brown eyes. She was the reason Helen was in this business, and she was the one that kept Helen rooted. She was the cornerstone of everything.

Kate and Helen had shared a foster home for two years when Helen was ten. Kate had been six at the time: a terribly skinny girl with straw-straight hair and big scared eyes. Helen, a lanky tomboy, hadn't warmed up to a soul until that little girl showed up. Kate was under her wing in a matter of days and from then on they'd been sisters. They'd stayed close, even when Kate had been adopted. Helen had ridden the bus to see her on weekends. She'd shown up for her, always.

So when Kate had started disappearing for days at a time, Helen knew something was wrong. And when she vanished altogether, Helen had torn through the city looking for her. Kate's adoptive parents had given up on her, chalked her up to a lost-cause junkie. They'd closed their doors to their supposed daughter and left her to the mercy of the streets of Boston. But Helen hadn't stopped looking until she found her.

Found her strung out and hooking.

It had broken Helen's heart, finding her that way. She'd cried more that day than she'd ever cried in her life, dragging her half-dead, broken sister into an ER. The withdrawal had been the worst part. Kate had nearly died, throwing up and shaking.

"Helen?"

Kate was staring at her now, her beauty shadowed with worry. Helen snapped out of the memory with a small sigh.

"Yeah."

"You're a million miles away." Kate murmured, leaning forward on the bed to stare directly into her face. "Where'd you go?"

"Dark corners." Helen replied softly. "Where I belong." Kate's mouth turned down at the ends.

"Stop that." She made a show of fluffing Helen's dark hair, playing with the curls that she'd put there with a curling iron only minutes ago. "You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" Helen muttered. "I'm not sure what I'm doing, Kate. I'm not some Dior-wearing madam living in a brownstone." She sighed. "I'm a street kid who tuned up a pimp and wound up with a flock of ducklings."

Kate laughed and Helen let herself grin.

"I love when you equate me to a small, fuzzy animal." Kate cooed. "But you're not giving yourself enough credit."

"Sure."

"H, you're one of the smartest people I know." Kate poked her arm with a manicured finger and Helen rubbed the spot.

"I don't feel too smart, dealing with mobsters."

"Oh, please." Kate snorted, jumping off the bed to strut to her closet. She was wearing a garter that said _please rip me off with your teeth_ underneath a t-shirt that said 'The Pancakery' across the front. The getup made Helen shake her head as Kate rummaged. "The **bankers** I entertained last week were no thugs." She said pointedly over her shoulder. "Actually, the only thugs in that whole place were Billy Darley and his meathead gang."

Helen had to laugh. Not everyone thought of Billy's gang as meatheads. Most people were intimidated to death of them. But not her Kate; after what she'd lived through, she was fearless.

"You're forgetting the dozen armed guards that Russian prick had standing around the room."

"HA!" Kate disappeared into the massive walk-in closet. "They were hired hands, trust me. Not mobsters." When she reappeared, she had a red dress pressed up to her body, as if she didn't know how amazing she'd look. Glancing in the mirror, she shrugged and discarded it on the bed. "They looked just as meathead-like as Billy's guys. Although…" She retreated into the closet again. "At least they didn't look so freaking tortured watching us work."

She walked back out with a black dress, nodding at her reflection in the mirror.

"Tortured?" Helen cocked an eyebrow while Kate slipped into the tiny dress.

"Helen, I'm a whore." Kate looked at her pointedly. "I know what pining looks like." She stared at her sister for a long minute, wondering if it was a good idea to ask the question rattling around in her head. But Kate didn't need prompting. "Billy spent that whole night looking at you like you were a rare steak and he hadn't eaten in months."

This time, Helen was the one letting out the sarcastic laugh.

"You're off your meds." She retorted, standing up from bed. But Kate cut her off, placing her body in front of the exit.

"And you're a huge liar." Kate crossed her arms over her very visible cleavage. "I was hoping maybe you'd ridden that fine piece of grind all night long, but judging by your fucking face right now…" Helen rolled her eyes at the gesture Kate made at her face. "…I'm gonna say you didn't. Not only did you not fuck that thick meat, but you're trying to not fuck him again tonight."

"Kate—"

"That's it, right?" Kate gestured to Helen's body. "That's why you're wearing as much clothing as humanly possible. That's why you're not putting your hot ass in one of the things in my closet."

Helen crossed her arms. It was true; she was wearing a lot more than she had been last week. She had a white leather jacket on over a black shirt. The skinny jeans on her body were a size too big, giving her legs as little definition as she could stand. She'd played it safe, trying to keep the nervous butterflies in her stomach to a dull roar by putting up a wall of armor.

"I don't need Ilya trying to jump my bones again." She lied. "He was…very attentive."

"Bullshit." Kate erupted with a laugh. "Oh, you're so full of shit."

"He wanted to pay for me, Kate." Helen spat. "He was tossing money on his big oak desk like I was a pair of shoes he needed to have."

Kate sighed. "You and I both know you don't do anything you don't want to do." She gestured to her body again. "And unlike me, your ass don't have a price tag."

Helen winced. But Kate only snorted.

"What are you worrying about, H?" When she didn't answer, Kate touched her arm gently and it took everything in Helen's power to not pull away. But her sister saw the mask slip into place, taking a small step back with a sigh. There was no need for words; the darkness falling over Helen's expression was doing a bang-up job at explaining her mood.

"I'm responsible for more than just me." Her words were ice cold and controlled, the way she wished she felt inside. Kate nodded and cleared her throat, then silently turned and strode into her closet. When she came back, something was draped over her arm.

She laid it down gently on the bed and touched it with a little smile. Then she stepped into Helen's arms and hugged her for the third time that night. But this was a hug Helen didn't feel like breaking free from.

"What's the point of saving everyone else, if you don't get to live?" Her sister whispered, pulling back to brush hair from Helen's eyes. "Try it on. If you like it, wear it. If you don't…" She retreated to open the bedroom door, stepping halfway through before she continued. "…wear it anyway."

* * *

Billy had been disappointed when he'd opened the door to the second town car, only to find it empty. He'd been more disappointed to find that Helen wasn't in the first car either, but had -according to one of the girls- gone ahead. Gone ahead to make sure everything went smoothly. Bullshit. He rode silently in the empty car and figured this had been her game, make him feel the ride alone.

Like she had, the night of the party one week ago.

This party was going to be different. The venue was public this time. A club downtown somewhere, he figured. Someplace he'd never heard of or visited. But judging by the name, it wasn't some kinky gothic rave or a techno ecstasy pit. The name of the place had sounded like a perfume, a single syllable that meant nothing in the English language.

It could mean 'sausage' for all he knew.

When they arrived, he reevaluated and guessed the word meant 'rich motherfucker'. The club wasn't a club at all, but a big building with a parking garage and a doorman who opened the glass double doors wide when they entered. Billy lead the group of women and his guys, wondering if maybe he'd made a mistake playing guard dog at this level. To have any kind of party in a place like this, you weren't just rich. You were born rich and you died rich. He would be lucky if he saw a day of his life where he didn't have to work.

The elevator took them to the 20th floor, which was probably the highest he'd ever been in a building. The girls were all quiet, as if sensing how big this night suddenly was for all of them. Billy caught the eyes of a few, their easy expressions slipping to reveal the insecurity lurking beneath the surface.

"We'll be fine."

One of the girls spoke up, finding the hand of a girl beside her. "Men are men, no matter how expensive the window dressing." That eased a few faces and Billy felt himself releasing a little tension in his shoulders.

And then the doors opened and the game changed.

There were fucking _violins_ playing. Billy felt like a deer in headlights, stiffly walking out onto the open floor while guests mingled around. Everyone was dressed in suits and ties, outclassing the fuck out of him.

The instinct to retreat dragged his feet like he'd stumbled through wet cement.

"Holy fuck." Bodie was whispering beside him. "Holy—"

"I heard you the first time." Billy growled. "Keep your head on. Follow the girls." His friend simply nodded, doing as instructed, his eyes still shifting all around in a sort of shock. The girls, however, seemed to fall right into the scene, their pretty faces lighting up.

Billy looked down at his black shirt and black jeans. Even as a hired thug, he felt supremely out of place. His sleeves were pulled up to the middle of his forearms, exposing some of the dark tattoos on his skin. The people around him were unmarked, tucked into suits that had been made for their bodies.

"You look fine."

The girl from the elevator stood beside him. Her blonde hair was perfectly straight around her head, falling well past her shoulders. And in a slinky little black dress, she was screaming _I'm not wearing underwear._

But her smile was kind and it made him stand a little straighter.

"You don't look so bad yourself, sweetheart." He purred. She laughed lightly and shook her head.

"Oh, just wait until you see her." The blonde gave him a small wink and then set off in the direction of the bar. He followed her with a crooked eyebrow, not sure what she meant…

Then he saw Helen.

At first, he didn't know what he was seeing. His eyes landed on a figure in the room and were unable to move away, but it took him a few moments to realize whom it was he was gawking at. Then he hadn't been able to think of anything else except the miles of skin he needed to get his hands on.

Her back was bare, all the way down to the top of her hips. The gown -and _damn_ was it a gown- was a dark green, cut in a deep V that started from her shoulders and ended above her ass, threatening to show him every inch if she leant down. He could follow the column of her spine all the way to her hair, which was curly and draped elegantly over one shoulder.

When she turned, he had to hold his breath. The front had a simple drape neckline, nothing too revealing like the women around her. But the shape of her bare breasts was very visible underneath all the silky material. So visible, he felt like she was standing naked in a room of men. He felt too warm and too sensitive suddenly. His skin was crawling with sensations he couldn't name.

Was he horny? Nervous? Angry?

She looked over at him at that moment, her eyes catching his across the room. Billy didn't need to know what he was feeling, he knew what he wanted… hell, what he _needed_.

Helen said something to the men around her and she slowly walked towards him. Every step felt like a caress. He wanted to haul her off the floor and carry her to a corner where he could have his way. Because he was _going_ to have his way. Somehow, he was going to make it happen.

When she reached him, her expression cracked a little into one of discomfort.

"Jesus, these shoes are fuckin' murdering me." She winced and fiddled with her stance, looking every bit like the Helen he knew. She brushed her hair from her face, waving a hand in front of it. "And I'm sweating like a pig." Billy just kept staring, his brain coming up with thirty things to say, but none of them right. Eventually, she wound up staring right back. He forced something out of his mouth.

"At least you got the dress code memo." He gestured to his black on black. Helen waved a hand.

"You blend in. Besides, I'd rather be dressed like you." She stepped closer to stand beside him, her back to the wall he'd chosen. "I feel fucking naked."

"And I can't stop looking." He admitted, his chest filling with pride, not shame as Helen's cheeks flushed a deep pink. She wouldn't meet his eyes but it didn't bother him. He was content to drink in every inch of her. The dip of her neckline… "Jesus." He murmured. Helen's nipples were tight under her dress, teasing him like a stroke to his growing cock.

"I'm not paying you to stare at me." She said, but her lips were hiding a smirk. "You're supposed to be watching the girls."

"I couldn't give less of a fuck." He growled. "They're fine." And they were; he trusted his guys. Trusted them enough that he could mentally undress Helen and never wonder if he was needed.

"Yeah, this is not what I expected." She fidgeted, still avoiding his gaze. "These men are politicians and businessman from downtown. Finance guys who have summer houses in sandy places…"

"Don't change the subject." Billy cut her off. "Don't pretend you're not wearing a dress that's making every fucker in here want a piece."

"I'm not a cake, Bill." She hissed back, her eyes darting around the room as she realized, men were -in fact- looking at her. "Shit, this was a bad idea."

"Don't worry about them." He growled. "Any of them touches you, I'll break their fucking hands."

"I'm not paying you for that either." She was hiding more of a smile, but her cheeks continued to flush pink.

"And at some point tonight, I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue and you're not gonna pay me for that either." Helen looked up at him then, breath rushing out of her in a gasp.

"Jesus—"

"Nope, me." He growled. He was jonesing for her and didn't care. He wanted to see the same need on her face. "I'd fuck you right here and now if you let me."

"I won't." She swallowed and looked away. "I can't."

"But you will, won't you?" Billy was radiating heat from his center, drawing her in until his chest was pressed into her shoulder. If she moved any closer, he'd be flush against her back, rolling his hard cock into the delicate material at her ass. "You'll let me push that dress over your hips and lick you from behind." He watched goosebumps break out over her arms and he had to clench his back teeth to keep from moaning. "Christ, I bet you're wet for me, right now." Helen bit her lip and Billy felt a triumphant growl fill his chest. He was going to have her, all the ways he could imagine. "Tell me you want me." He ground out.

"Christ, yes." Her breathy whisper made him throb in his jeans. "I have all week. The only reason I wore this insane dress was to get you to rip it off of me."

Billy had to let out a gust of breath, his heart dropping into his stomach.

"Fuck."

She laughed gently. "But first you just watch me…" Taking a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. "…all night."

* * *

A/N: So I lied, this isn't going to be shorty. Enjoy ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Helen tried not to look at him and it was torture. But she wasn't sure whose torture it was. Mingling was so much easier when her mind wasn't involved in the conversation. She could laugh and touch her throat casually, drawing more attention to her body than she'd ever been comfortable with. And she could do it because she wasn't thinking about the small talk about the economy or this month's political scandal. She was thinking about Billy's eyes on her. His stare was like a touch, grazing her skin while she mingled with complete strangers.

It was so difficult to not look back at him. But she managed to keep her eyes away for a little over an hour. Then she snuck a peek.

He was on the same wall, his dark form tucked away from the activity around him. His arms were crossed over his chest, highlighting the strength of his forearms and the black tattoos on his white skin. What really took her breath away, however, were his eyes.

Billy Darley was staring at her like he was going to rip her in half. She had to hide a shiver when she saw the predatory edge in his gaze. He was like an animal, ready to tear after her and devour her. And it only made things worse when she turned away. She was on fire, trying to keep her face from turning a rich shade of _so turned on it hurts_.

"Ms. Gates." Ilya sauntered up to her with a drink in his hand, his eyes licking over every inch of her body. "You look edible." She bit back a growl. _Not for you._

"Thank you." She sipped on whatever drink she'd ordered, tasting not a single thing. "But I prefer jeans and t-shirts."

He laughed pleasantly. "I'm sure, but would they do you justice?" His hand drifted to her arm and he stroked it with the back of a finger. "You have a beauty that should be seen."

"I'm not concerned with being seen." She replied gently, moving her arm out of reach. If she wasn't careful, Ilya could be insulted in her rejection. This was why she'd hesitated to wear the dress. She hadn't wanted to come across as a tease to Ilya, when it was designed to tease someone else entirely.

"Are you going to introduce me?" Helen was startled as Kate appeared at her side, her eyes shining with delight. Or vodka. Her sister fluttered her eyelashes at Ilya, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.

"Chastity." Helen said her sister's fake name like a question, but Kate wasn't listening. Her hand was already in Ilya's large palm, being kissed by a brief brush of his lips.

"Ilya Mikhailov." He introduced himself with a purr, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. "A pleasure."

Helen wanted to vomit.

"I've heard good things about you, Mr. Mikahl— Mr. Mikay—" Kate stumbled on his last name like a good little actress, feigning embarrassment.

"Please, call me Ilya." He smoothed over her words like silk, his hand releasing Kate's. "I was just remarking to Ms. Gates on how exquisite she looks, but you, my dear, are equally stunning." Kate flushed and gave him a dazzling smile, but Helen felt like dragging her away. He wasn't just some John; he was a snake in the grass.

"I'd better go check on the others." Helen found herself saying, her feet itching to take her as far from the conversation as possible. Kate gave her a knowing glance, then wrapped her arm around Ilya's to pull him in closer. Helen wanted to scream as she watched her sister walk away, arm in arm with danger.

"I'll keep an eye on her." She whipped her head around to find Billy's man Baggy standing close by, his eyes sharp as he watched Kate and Ilya in the crowd. Her heart fluttered…with relief? Or was it just anxiety? He locked eyes with her, the darkness there lifting for a moment. "She'll be fine."

"Good." Helen whispered. He walked away as Kate and Ilya moved further across the room and Helen followed them with her eyes, her heart jumping around in her chest.

When she looked up at Billy, his gaze didn't torture her anymore. She was warmed by it, like an embrace that said _I'm here._ He hadn't moved, but his eyes had seen everything. His stare wasn't dialed into primal; it was a simmer, a promise. It was like the night in the back of the car. When she'd faltered, he'd simply sat there and waited for her. He waited for her to take what she wanted from him. He waited for her to draw strength from him, from his touch, his presence.

She put a hand on her neck, drawing a line with a finger from her collarbone to her shoulder. His eyes followed and his chest expanded. In a rush, she remembered his words. _I'd fuck you right here and now if you'd let me._ God he wasn't kidding, was he? She could feel the heat rolling off of him from across the room. If she snapped her fingers, he'd take her down like a linebacker and rut into her in front of all the guests.

The background concerto suddenly seemed so ridiculous next to the images in her head. Billy fucking her senseless on the floor while such polite music played. She bit back a snort. There would be nothing polite about the way he touched her tonight. She'd known her fate the moment she'd seen him. She was going to end up naked, sprawled underneath him, screaming nonsense while he filled her up.

The heat between her legs clenched, knowing all too well how he'd feel. He'd push her to the point of pain, but it would hurt _so_ good. She shifted her stance and felt how already her body was slick for him. Drenched was a more appropriate word. Helen moved slowly back the bar, tearing her eyes away from Billy. If she wasn't careful, she was going to wind up dripping down her thighs before he'd even touched her.

"Christ." She whispered, putting a hand out on the bar. The girl behind it gave her a concerned look.

"Ma'am?"

"Water." She said quickly, pushing away the half drank cocktail in her hand. "Just water."

The bartender poured a bottle into a glass, smiling as she scooted it across the counter. Helen drank it in three gulps, the stuff threatening to run down her chin as she did. When she was done, she nodded and returned the glass. "Another. Please."

The girl gave her a small smile and complied.

"Long night?" She asked sweetly. Helen took the cold glass and gulped back another mouthful. Her mouth still felt dry and the ache between her legs still burned.

"You have no idea."

* * *

When they went to leave, Helen motioned the women into the first car and the men into the second. Without a word, she divided them like a dog herding sheep, hiding a smirk on her lips.

Billy wanted to punish that teasing mouth with his teeth.

As she climbed into the second car with his men, he knew full well what she was doing. Helen was putting as many bodies between them as possible. She wasn't just teasing; she was testing him. Testing what he was willing to do in front of his guys. Climbing in after her, he watched her pick the seat on the opposite side of the car, sticking her ass out so Bodie and Baggy moved for her to sit between them.

He wanted to throw them all out. Sitting next to Heco, he stared at Helen from the across the car. She pretended not to notice.

"That went well. Thank you." She spoke aloud to the car, receiving nods and noncommittal sounds in return.

Billy just stared.

Her smooth legs were bare from the way her dress fell between them, the green material bunching as it welled up. Helen shifted her left leg and crossed it over her right, giving him a brief flash of—

Billy froze, his fingers digging into his knees.

Nothing. She was wearing absolutely nothing under that dress. Helen Gates had just pulled a Sharon Stone, flashing her bare sex at him in a car full of men. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she was watching him and goddamn her, there was a laugh in her eyes.

 _What are you gonna do about it?_

He was going to fuck her so hard she'd forget her own name.

Bodie shifted in his seat and Billy's eyes flashed to his friend, the primal part of him itching to rip something apart with his hands because he couldn't get into his woman. _His?_

Bodie's eyes blazed with surprise as their stares locked. He could almost hear his best friend's voice in his head, asking him _what the fuck?_

What the fuck was right. He was rabidly hard, his cock throbbing against the seam of his jeans like it was trying to run away. Bodie arched a brow and Billy lowered his into a flat line.

 _Mine._

The word filled his brain like a clap of thunder. His chest swelled with a feeling of conclusion. Slicing his eyes over to Helen, he let the feeling spread to his limbs. _Mine._ Her lips popped open in a silent gasp, breath leaving her in a rush. _Mine._ The more he thought it, the more natural it felt. The more it made sense. He didn't just want Helen. He wanted Helen as **his**. After watching her play with him all night, he was going to make her beg. He was going to make her scream **his** name, whimper for him, and plead for more. **His** lips were going to punish that smart mouth and **his** cock was going to claim every inch of her bare body.

They couldn't have gotten to the Four Roses any slower.

By the time the car came to stop, Heco practically jumping out of the car, Billy was shaking. Bodie and Baggy also made quick exits, leaving just Helen on the other side of the car. When all the doors were slammed shut, Billy lunged.

But Helen was faster. Kicking out a leg, she pinned a heel into his chest, stopping him dead halfway across the car.

"Down boy." She purred. "What will your guys think?" He snarled at her, deep and ugly, his hands grasping her ankle.

"If anyone tries to stop me from getting under that dress and into your pussy, I'll fuckin' kill them."

Helen's leg was trembling when he ran a hand up her calf. Her cheeks blushed a violent shade of red as he stared, stroking her leg and grazing her thigh. The heel of her shoe dug into his sternum, but the pain crossed with pleasure in his brain.

"Where to?" A voice crackled over a speaker. Helen blinked rapidly, remembering that they were not alone. She rattled off an address Billy didn't recognize, her eyes never leaving his.

"You should get out." She stated softly as the car started.

"Not gonna happen." He growled. Helen chuckled softly.

"What will they think, you coming home with me?" Lowering his eyes, Billy looked shamefully at her legs, his left hand pushing the material of her dress up her thighs.

"Lucky bastard."

She sighed when he pushed the fabric to her hips, the junction of her thighs bare for him to see. With a rough push, he ripped her heel from his chest and parted her legs.

"You fuckin' tease." He purred. Helen replied with a throaty giggle, sinking her ass into the seat to rock her hips wider for him. And _Jesus_ it would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't already been kneeling between her legs. "I wanted to fuckin' eat you in the back of this car, all the way back to the bar." He met her eyes as he told her all the things he'd held back all night. "When you flashed this perfect fucking cunt…" He dragged his eyes down her legs to the flushed sex he craved. "I would have killed Heco for even getting a peek."

Helen bit her lip and arched for him, the blush on her cheeks growing until her neck had started flushing as well.

"Goddamn it, Bill." She was clawing at his hands on her thighs, impatient. Oh, but he was only getting started.

"You played with my balls all night, sweetheart." He growled. "Made me imagine ripping that dress of yours in half, fucking you against a wall in a bathroom." She gasped and arched again, her hand ripping his grasp off of one thigh in an attempt to bring him closer. He pulled from her reach and slapped her ass hard, the sound cracking in the back of the car.

"Fuck!" She hissed. But he watched her body shudder with lust, the skin blooming from where his hand had been.

"I get ta call the shots now, sweetheart." Billy spoke evenly, rubbing his hand over the tender red print appearing at the top of her thigh. "You had your fun, now I get mine."

"You sonofabitch." She murmured, grinning at him with hooded eyes. Billy returned the smile and planted a wet mouth on her right knee, lifting her leg up over his shoulder. When she let out a strangled moan, he brought his hand down again, his palm tingling against her ass. Helen's curse made him grunt into her skin.

"More." She bit out. He laughed against her leg, trailing kisses higher.

"Greedy girl."

"Mean bastard." She retorted with a small sob. He rewarded her with a slap to the opposite leg and she shuddered. Billy let out a hard moan.

"You're so close to coming." He stated with amazement, his eyes taking in all of her pleasure. Helen was glistening with arousal, her face flushed with need and her skin red from his hands. Without even grazing her sex, she was teetering on the edge of bliss. "I haven't even tasted you yet."

"Well then get to it." She whispered. "Or I'll come without you." Her hand shot out to her clit and Billy tackled her. In a tangle of limbs, he pinned her onto the seat, laying her out flat on her back. With both hands, he trapped her wrists at her sides. Helen wrapped her legs around his shoulders and Billy realized she'd played him.

"Sneaky little—" He growled. She rocked her cunt up to his face, taking the fight right out of him. _Jesus_. Any control he had melted at the site of her, drenched for him, aching for him. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he spread her wide and bit the tender skin of her left thigh. Helen let out a yelp, her hands grasping at his scalp. If he'd had hair, she would be yanking on it. With a devilish grin, he settled down on the seat and pressed a feather light kiss on her clit.

Helen sighed as he teased her. First with small kisses, then wetter, more lingering tastes. Then he started sucking her into his mouth, making her arch and moan against his face, her nails gently scratching his head. The more sound she made, the harder he drove her. His tongue made long sweeps up her core, bringing her head up off the seat to watch him.

All the while, she was saying his name, stroking his face. And goddamn if he didn't love every second of it. The look of her: staring at him and tossing her head back when he sucked right where she wanted it. The way she parted her lips when he came up for air and kissed her thighs. And the way she bit those lips when he took her harder, her ass grinding into the seat as she humped him. The echoes of pleasure he brought to Helen made his cock leap in his jeans, begging to participate as she started the climb to orgasm. Billy brought her to the edge only to ease off, which made Helen whimper out a string of curses.

"Please." She repeated the word over and over, grasping at his head in desperation. "Billy, please."

When he sat up, she looked at him in shock.

"Like I said." He purred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You teased me all night. My turn." As Helen sat up, Billy grabbed her by the throat with one big hand. Her slap on his cheek was light, bringing him only pleasure as his skin rang.

"Asshole." She hissed. He growled and yanked her forward by the neck to give her a rough kiss, pushing her away a moment later.

"What, no more 'please'?"

Helen gave him another quick slap, and he shot forward to kiss her harder. Her body melted against him. Despite their desperation moments before, things suddenly slowed. Billy wrapped an arm around her back, bringing her in close. Licking into her mouth, he deepened the kiss, brought her into his lap and tangled a hand in her hair. No matter what games they played, he always got lost in Helen. He was beginning to understand that she was his match. That terrified him. And intoxicated him. As Billy pushed Helen away, his hold on her neck was gentle as he stared into her green eyes.

"Ma'am." The speaker interrupted. "We're here."

* * *

A/N: I'm a tease ;) Sorry.


End file.
